Chapter 215
“Penelope, what happened p>
“Tell Dad, did someone hurt you p>
“Don’t cry, Dad’s here. I’ll take care of it for you p>
The sound of his daughter’s tears sent Mr. Anderson into a panic. He shot to his feet and turned to embrace her. Wrapped in her father’s arms, Penelope’s grief poured out in choked sobs.
She didn’t dare to remember that day. Lucien, drunk, had burst into her room. Her screams were muffled as he grabbed her, his eyes wild like a hungry wolf’s, his hands tearing at her clothes.
She fought back with all her might, but he beat her savagely.
“I raised you all these years for nothing? You should be serving me p>
He lunged at her again, throwing her onto the bed.
She was only eight years old. When her struggles proved futile, fear and terror overwhelmed her.
Just then, her mother came home from work. Seeing the scene, she grabbed a fruit knife and stabbed Lucien.
“You animal! How dare you hurt my daughter! Go to hell! Go to hell p>
And Lucien died.
Her mother called the police herself. Before they took her away, she told Penelope the truth about her birth.
“Lucien is not your real father. Your birth father’s name is Donald Bishop. I can’t take care of you anymore. You have to find him. Beg him to take you in. Even if you have to kneel, you must grow up in the Bishop family. Only then can you learn to support yourself p>
Then the police took her mother away. She wandered the streets for days before finally finding the Bishop estate.
It was pouring rain. She pounded on the massive gates until someone finally opened them.
“My mom was taken by the police! Please, help her p>
She was led to a greenhouse, and the servants locked the door, probably to keep her from causing trouble.
Through the glass, she saw the Bishops’ mansion. It was beautiful.
The grounds were vast, with perfectly manicured lawns,
flower beds, and a small,
vibrant
castle-themed playground.
She guessed a little girl lived here, a girl probably her age.
Other children only got to go to the playground once in a while, but this girl could
go every day. She must be so happy. Or maybe she was already bored of it.
If it were me, Penelope thought, I could play here for a hundred years and never get tired. I would be happy every single day.
Later, she saw many guests arrive, all carrying beautifully wrapped presents. One of them must have a princess doll inside, maybe even the one she had seen in the shop window, the one she wanted so badly.
The sound of the “Happy Birthday” song drifted from the mansion. She saw a little princess in a white dress standing before a multi-tiered cake the center of everyone’s universe showered with well wishes.
It was her birthday too, Penelope thought.
Later, the door opened, and the elegant Mrs. Bishop walked in, her face a mask of contempt.
“The little bastard. She’s still alive p>
Penelope frowned. Even elegant-looking people could use such ugly words.
She didn’t know who the woman was, only that she had to save her mother.
“Hah! That’s the best news I’ve heard all day. You want me to save her? I hope she gets the death penalty p>
“You’re the one who should get the death penalty! You’re a bad person p>
Penelope lunged forward and bit Mrs. Bishop on the arm.
Caught off guard, Mrs. Bishop cried out and shoved her away, then slapped her hard across the face.
Ignoring the stinging pain, Penelope lunged again, but this time, the servants caught her.
“So filthy!” Mrs. Bishop exclaimed, demanding a wet wipe from a servant. She scrubbed at her hand, glaring at Penelope.
“I want to see Donald!” Penelope screamed.
“He sent me to deal with you! Do you know what ‘deal with you’ means? It means throwing you out and letting you rot p>